


Murphy's Cops Law #34

by Python07



Series: Murphy's Cops Laws [31]
Category: White Collar
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-03
Updated: 2015-02-03
Packaged: 2018-03-10 09:50:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3285887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Python07/pseuds/Python07
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Small fic based on Murphy's Cops Law #34: Your testimony in court is unnecessary until both you and your wife coordinate the same time off work together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Murphy's Cops Law #34

Neal lounged with his feet up on his desk. He interlaced his fingers behind his head. He smirked as he watched Peter’s office across the room. 

Peter sat at his desk. He was on the phone. There was a pained, frustrated expression on his face and he clutched the receiver tightly.

Suddenly, Peter jerked the receiver away from his head and glared at it. Neal snickered under his breath. “What did you do, Peter?”

Peter cautiously brought the receiver back to his ear. He opened his mouth and abruptly shut is again. He looked up as if praying for divine intervention.

Diana tapped Neal’s feet with a file. “Supposed to be working, not off in la la land,” she said with a smile.

Neal eagerly sat up and nodded in Peter’s direction. “There’s only one person who can get under Peter’s skin like that.”

Diana shot Neal a pointed look. “I wouldn’t be so sure of that.”

Neal’s eyes got wide. He playfully clutched his chest. “Me? If Peter starts popping Rolaids like candy, it won’t be my fault. I’m a model citizen.”

Diana perched on the front end of Neal’s desk. “From which country? Moronica?”

Neal laughed quietly. “Three Stooges references, Diana?”

“What can I say? My Dad loved them.”

“There’s no accounting for taste.” 

“I bet you’re a closet slapstick fan,” Diana said knowingly.

“Possibly,” Peter allowed. He saw Peter roll his eyes and he swore he could see that vein throbbing in Peter’s forehead. “I wonder what he did to get El mad at him.”

Diana chuckled. “Is it really any of your business.”

Neal arched his eyebrows at her. “Of course it is.”

“How?”

The sparkling smile never left Neal’s face. “I could tell you but then I’d have to kill you.”

Diana laughed out loud and dropped the file in front of Neal. “You can try.” She glanced Peter and saw him slam the phone down. She whistled quietly and turned her attention back to Neal. “You may not want to stick your nose in this one.”

Neal’s expression didn’t change. He held both his hands up. “Hey, I just want to help.”

Diana shook her head in amusement and turned away. “You’ll do what you want anyway.”

Neal stood. “Trust me.”

“Famous last words,” Diana retorted.

“And you’re right. I am a closet slapstick fan.” Neal winked at her over his shoulder and trotted up the steps. He rapped quickly on Peter’s door and went in. “Hey.”

Peter pulled open his desk drawers in his search for a bottle of aspirin. “What?” he asked irritably.

Neal pushed Peter back in his seat, opened the bottom drawer, and tossed the bottle of Tylenol at Peter. He calmly took one of the seats in front of the desk. “What’s going on?” 

Peter popped the top off the bottle. He downed two of the pills with his leftover cold coffee. He grimaced. “El’s not happy with me.”

“I guessed that,” Neal said smoothly. “What have you done this time?”

Peter grunted. He didn’t look at Neal. “It turns out they’ll need me to testify the week of the 15th.”

Neal frowned. “Isn’t that when she planned for that trip to….?”

“Yup,” Peter growled. “She’s been looking forward to it all year and apparently this place is hard to get into and….” his voice trailed off in frustration. 

Neal sighed. “Ouch.”

Peter pinched the bridge of his nose. “Tell me about it, but Matlock’s trial’s been brought forward. I have to testify.”

“Oh, no doubt,” Neal agreed. “The longer he’s put away, the better off we’ll all be.”

Peter’s shoulders slumped. He lowered his voice. He still didn’t look at Neal. “Are you mad at me too?”

Neal leaned forward to briefly squeeze Peter’s fingers. “No,” he whispered earnestly. He leaned back in his seat and gave his best cocky smile. “I’ll get them to let us change the reservation. I’ll get you two to myself yet.”


End file.
